542 Words
U.S.A. - Florida -
Way Down Upon the Suwannee River
Like the Jack Daniels' in my guide's hip flask, the Suwannee River colours my dangling feet in a warm amber wash. Just like the old song, we are way down upon the Suwannee, somewhere in Florida, when we paddle our little boats around another serpentine bend. Six good ol' boys are standing crotch-deep in the whiskey waters, the golden hue no doubt being further enhanced by the beer flowing down their throats. I pull my legs back from their lazy position over the bow, paddling harder, as I skirt around them as far as possible.
"Hey!" drawls the first one, "make sure you-all send us the picture!"
My grin starts in my belly and spreads to my face.
"Send it to www.redneckpepper.com!"
The Suwannee River Wilderness Trail is a 207-mile watery path that rises from the Okefenokee Swamp in southeastern Georgia, wending a south-western snaky path through eight counties in Northern Florida to the Gulf of Mexico. Along the way it is fed by mysterious springs that bubble up between the cypress, oak and tupelo trees and the tributaries of the Alapaha, Withlacoochee and Santa Fe rivers. The Florida Department of Environmental Protection, the Suwannee River Water Management District and all the cities, businesses and citizens of these counties have banded together to manage this newly protected system. There are already screened sleeping platforms and covered-shelter cooking sites at some of the campgrounds. The completed project will include some form of accommodations every ten miles so that even a novice paddler can complete an easy day-trip before pulling in for the night. The work is ongoing and not quite on target as plans get modified and set back from hurricanes and floods.
The paddling is easy. The impossibly wide trunks of the cypresses narrow as they rise to the blue skies. I drift with the steady stream. The oaks spread their fingers up, and out, reaching for the impossible. Every so often we see sugar sand beaches made from eons of eroded limestone. I realize I am staring, mindless, yet mindful, the way one stares at aquariums or camp fires. The way one stares when thoughts have finally abated and nature has taken her Zen hold of calm.
There is silence, save for the rolling sound of desire from the cicadas hidden among the cypresses that drape their mossed arms overhead. When we drift into sync together, John Vassar of Suwannee River Outfitters, keeps up the patter of a man interested in his world. The landscape is surreal to me. He explains how the river is steeped in tannins from the trees, a colour so rich and yet the water so very clear in its orangeness. It is the type of swampy world where a dinosaur chewing in a giraffe-lipped mimic at the tree tops wouldn't be out of place. I find myself looking up - a lot.
I feel for my passport in its zip-locked baggie and realize I have traveled to a far- off land, to a different time, in a much different world. A land where time travels at the speed of sugared water, where dinosaurs could appear any minute and where rare, delicate orchids blossom in the swamps while alligators silently observe it all.
Prepare to Paddle: www.SuwanneeRiver.com |
